


Operation Lonely Mountain

by Flapdragon



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Spy, Gen, M/M, Minor Character Death, Retirement
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-23 21:18:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/626622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flapdragon/pseuds/Flapdragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yet another Hobbit kink-meme fill.</p>
<p>'Thorin and co. along with Bilbo and Gandalf as spies! Perhaps Bilbo is a retired secret service agent and Gandalf is his former handler? Or maybe Bilbo is a hacket? Thorin as an exiled prince of some country, trying to retake it? The ring as nuclear codes?</p>
<p>I don't know, I just want a spy AU. Can be cracky or serious. </p>
<p>Any pairing, but I do have a liking for Thorin/Bilbo and Bilbo/Bofur.'</p>
<p>Bilbo Baggins, codenamed Burglar, has been happily retired for the past three years. That is, until his old handler turns up on his doorstep with twelve strangers and another former agent, Thorin (codenamed Oakenshield), who lost an important piece of technology to a faction known as Red Dragon and its leader Smaug. Now Thorin and his crew are on a mission to retrieve Arkenstone from Smaug before he can finish decrypting the files and they want Bilbo. </p>
<p>Can Bilbo survive his final job?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Phase 1: Recruitment

**Author's Note:**

> This is the other WIP that I've mentioned. I hope to alternate chapters between this and The Company of the Ring but this is probably going to be shorter and punchier than that one. After all, we have things like aeroplanes which negate the months of travelling.

Bilbo Baggins, who lived in a rather appropriately named house called 'Bag End' which had belonged to his father's family since forever, was retired. Retired. With a capital retired. 

So maybe there were a couple of...less than legal guns stashed inconspicuously around the house. Maybe he kept up his languages and encrypted his computer and still occasionally kept his light fingers in shape. 

He was retired, not stupid. He'd been lucky enough to be able to retire back into anonymity, to be able to give up the adrenaline rushes. His mother hadn't been able too. She'd stopped, for a time, when she married his father and then when he was born. He still remembered her going off for her 'one, final' mission when he was 8 (he'd been using the stealth skills-that-weren't-stealth skills that's she'd been teaching him to listen in on his parents) and never coming back. 

No. He was retired and he only kept up his skills just in case. No more missions for him. The most exciting thing which was happening right now in the small country village simply called 'The Shire' where he lived was the tomato-growing contest. 

Maybe his neighbours had thought it odd at first that a thirty-something man did not seem to go out to work or have any kind of job. Bilbo had put it around that he was an author of the sort of boring books that nobody really wants to read unless they absolutely have to. He had technical skills enough still to create these faked books online, just in case anybody in The Shire decided to search for one but nobody had questioned that. 

No, instead, Bilbo Baggins was known as a nice, polite man who would happily join much of the rest of the town at the local pub, The Green Dragon, and have a drink but who otherwise kept a bit to himself. It was suggested that he was a widower or something like that, but lots of the older inhabitants of The Shire had known his father and grandfather before him and remarked, happily enough, that Bilbo took after his father rather than his much wilder mother. 

For a retired agent, The Shire was perfect. It was the sort of idyllic little insular country village, quintessentially (and rather stereotypically) English, where nobody (save Bilbo) locked their doors and everybody knew everybody else's business. Any newcomer was looked on slightly suspiciously, which would make another agent stand out. 

Bilbo was quite happy with his retirement and the intelligence community seemed to have quite forgotten that the agent codenamed 'Burglar' had ever existed.

Or so Bilbo thought. 

-

It was late one evening and he'd just finished supper and was in the middle of doing the washing up when there was a knock on the door. Unusual, since he had two windows open and anybody who lived in The Shire would simply have called through one of them. 

Bilbo went to the door, there was a grenade underneath the hatstand he could use if he needed to. He opened the door and blinked.  
"Gandalf," he said, staring up at the elderly man in the impeccable suit. The man who'd been his mother's old handler, who'd brought him into the intelligence business and then got him out again. The man whose real name he'd never known (Gandalf Grey was an alias). "Come in, come in." He stepped aside to let Gandalf in.  
"Bilbo, my dear boy," Gandalf said, patting him on the shoulder, "you're looking well."   
Bilbo flushed a little, he'd certainly put on a little weight since retiring. "So are you," Gandalf didn't look a day older than he had the last time he'd seen the older man, "but why are you here." They'd said goodbye for the final time the day he'd retired, Gandalf had said that they ought never to see each other again.   
"I'm here to offer you an opportunity...or to call in a favour, whichever it needs to be," said Gandalf, sitting down in a chair at the kitchen table and accepting the cup of tea Bilbo absently handed him.  
"What are you talking about?" Bilbo said.   
"No, it's best if I wait until the others have arrived," Gandalf said, sipping the tea. "You might want to raid your cupboards, they'll probably be hungry."   
"They? They!" Bilbo sputtered, "who are _they_ Gandalf? Why are they coming here?" 

It was then that there was a knock on the door. Bilbo trotted towards the door and opened it. A huge man stood there, most people were taller than Bilbo (who was only 5'7), but this guy must have been nearly six and a half feet tall and built like a tank with tattoos on his hands and his bald head.  
"Dwalin, at your service," he rumbled   
"Come in," Gandalf called from the kitchen and Bilbo got out of the way to allow the man to come in. 

Bilbo had barely gotten back into the kitchen to find that Gandalf and Dwalin had taken the liberty of becoming very friendly with his pantry already when there was another knock on the door. 

This time it was an older man with snow white hair. Dwalin stuck his head into the hallway.  
"Balin," he said happily and Bilbo had to let Balin in. 

Then it was two more men, this time much younger and both in jeans and tee-shirts, one dark haired and one blond-ish (his porch light might be distorting things). He might have been retired but Bilbo could still spot that they were both armed.   
"Fili," the blond one said  
"and Kili," the dark haired one finished.  
Then they shoved past him into the house because somebody had put toast on and the smell was wafting out into the hallway.

The next half an hour or so involved Bilbo running to and fro to the door and letting complete strangers into his house. Despite the fact that Gandalf said they were all okay it still rankled. Maybe he had been living in The Shire too long if he was allowing all these people to walk all over him. 

By the time there were twelve strange people and Gandalf in his kitchen and his lounge Bilbo was getting much closer to the spirit which had marked his intelligence days. He was also thinking quite seriously about how he might remove all the people from his house.

There was one final knock on the door, but it was one which made all of the other people go quietly.   
"Answer the door Bilbo," Gandalf said. But then he followed Bilbo out into the hall. 

The man who now stood on his doorstep was tall, with slightly greying dark hair, a beard and the bluest eyes Bilbo had ever seen. Bilbo felt small and kind of embarrassed since he was wearing grass-stained jeans from gardening earlier, a hideous (but very comfortable) jumper that he'd been presented by one of the elderly women in the village who'd apparently known his grandfather and mismatched socks with holes in them.  
"Welcome Thorin," Gandalf said. Bilbo nearly gasped. He knew of Thorin, codenamed 'Oakenshield', even if he'd only been a young agent at the time.

Thorin had been the best and brightest, a third generation intelligence operative with countless successful missions behind him. He'd been the lead agent taking part in Operation Erebor, transferring a device known only as Arkenstone, from one facility to another. Arkenstone, as Bilbo had later found out, had been a device with the encrypted location of several nuclear missiles as well as a lot of other classified data on it. 

Midway through the transfer all comms had gone dark and they'd come under attack from a faction known only as Red Dragon - headed by the elusive and paranoid Smaug. They'd managed to get a scrambled message out to another intelligence agency who had a squad in the area but they hadn't come. Instead only Thorin and a couple of others had managed to survive but Arkenstone was long gone. 

Shortly after that, all the nuclear missiles whose locations were on Arkenstone had gone missing - presumed taken by Red Dragon. Thorin's career had barely hung on. He'd left the intelligence world after his handler, Thror, had been killed by an assassin known only as 'Pale Orc' and his supervisory agent and recruiter, Thrain, had been kidnapped by an unknown organisation. Bilbo had only heard rumour but apparently Thorin, after Thror's death, had discovered Pale Orc's presence in a city he was doing a reconnaissance mission in and gone in solo to try and kill the man. Supposedly he'd managed to seriously wound the assassin before Pale Orc escaped. 

He'd been fired, or quit or just dropped off the world after that. 

"Why am I here, Gandalf?" Thorin asked, as soon as he was properly inside.  
"Thorin," Gandalf said, "and everybody else," since everybody else was crowding around the doorways into the hall, "I would like you to meet Bilbo Baggins," Thorin did not look particularly impressed, "formerly known as Burglar." Lots of eyebrows went up. As they all moved back into the kitchen there was a lot of chatter which stopped whenever Bilbo got near. Gandalf didn't seem surprised when Bilbo brought out a frequency jammer and turned it on, just in case (though it wasn't like he didn't sweep for bugs). The windows had already been closed and that was about the best he could do. 

"You said you needed another member," Gandalf said to Thorin.  
"Another member for what?" Bilbo said, looking around.  
"We're taking back the Arkenstone," one of the men, Bilbo thought it was Oin, said. "And taking down Smaug and Red Dragon while we're at it."   
He should have guessed. Why else would Thorin have come out of retirement or hiding to put together a squad.   
"Why now?" Bilbo said, he didn't really mean to say it, but.   
"Because," Gandalf said, "Red Dragon has moved significantly forward in decrypting the second half of Arkenstone and they're searching for the launch codes to the missiles they already possess."  
"We've already taken the information to the agency," Thorin said, "the new head, Dain, won't do anything so we must act." 

"Gandalf, can I speak to you in private for a moment," Bilbo said, heading out into the now vacant living room.  
"What is it?"  
"I'm retired Gandalf," Bilbo said vehemently, "you know I'm out of the game and I don't want to get back in."  
"Yes, but..." Gandalf started.  
"I remember what happened to my mother," Bilbo said, much quieter, "one, last mission - just for old times sake - only she never came back."  
"That's not going to happen this time," Gandalf said, reassuringly.  
"You and I both know you can't guarantee that," Bilbo said, "I can't do it."  
"Do you really think you could live happily here for the rest of your life?" Gandalf said. "Growing tomatoes for gardening competitions and having a pint at the Green Dragon."  
"Yes," said Bilbo. He had been happy these last few year. Slight bored, to be certain, but nobody was trying to kill him, he wasn't having to lie to anybody (not really) and he'd become far less twitchy. "I've had my adventures, Gandalf, I'd quite like to enjoy the rest of my life."   
"Hmmm." Gandalf said. 

The rest of the evening was strange. Gandalf did stop mentioning him joining the squad but they were still going over possible plans. Gandalf had produced a key, shaped like a key, which was apparently the decryption key for Arkenstone and which he'd managed to get off of Thrain somehow, as well as a blueprint of the Red Dragon headquarters. 

It was past midnight when the group began to excuse themselves, saying that they were staying at the Prancing Pony hotel (which was really just an overly large B&B a fair ways from The Shire) and he should join them there tomorrow morning if he wanted in. 

Gandalf waited until the rest of the group, even Thorin (who still did not look particularly happy at the thought of Bilbo's inclusion or his indecision about joining), had left and Bilbo was pottering around and tidying up.   
"I hope you're not still thinking of trying to convince me to join Thorin's crusade," Bilbo said as he piled up plates on the side to wash up later.  
"I didn't want to have to tell you this," Gandalf said.  
"What?" Bilbo said, exasperatedly. He was tired, exhausted and fed up.   
"It's about your mother's death," Gandalf said, "she was investigating the formation of Red Dragon when Smaug had her killed."  
Bilbo looked quite steadily at Gandalf. "You expect me to believe that? That my mother was, quite coincidentally, looking into the same group that Thorin wants destroyed when she was killed and that you're only bothering to tell me this now because you want me to go on this...this quest with these people."  
One of Gandalf's bushy eyebrows twitched and he gave a chuckle, lighting up a cigarette. "You were so very like her," he said, half to himself, "but to think that Isabella Took's son would back away from a mission. Perhaps there's more of your father in you than I though."   
"What's that supposed to mean?" His father, Boris 'Bungo' Baggins, had been the most stable person in his life, even if he had disapproved of his son's wildness or his chosen career path.   
"Nothing, nothing," Gandalf said, "I should be going. I'll let myself out."

Bilbo was quite happy to let him and it was only when the door clicked shut that he turned around and saw the manila folder on the table. He rolled his eyes, he should have known better than to expect Gandalf to give up so easily. 

Drying his hands Bilbo sat down at the table and opened it. It was his mother's file. Isabella Baggins, nee Took, Codename: Belladonna. She stared back at him, fifteen years younger than his last fuzzy memories of her, with curling dark hair and big dark eyes. The file was quite thick, detailing all of her missions with her reports in them. There was her retirement documenting and, shortly afterwards, the medical report of his own birth. 

Then it got to the final one. Her last mission, the one she'd never come home from. He didn't have to look at the dates, he remembered her sitting him down and explaining that Mummy had to go away for a little while but he had to be a good, brave boy and do what his father told him to do (and to keep practising all the things she'd taught him) and she'd be back soon. It was burnt into his mind the same way the two men in dark suits appearing on the doorstep just over a month later to inform him and his father than Isabella Baggins wouldn't be coming home. 

She'd been asked to try and infiltrate the fledgling organisation known as Red Dragon and to try and get close to the leader Smaug, if only to get a photo of him so they could try and find out what his real name was. Only Smaug had found her out first and her body had been dumped outside the offices her handlers were using as a message. There was even her autopsy report. 

Okay so Gandalf probably hadn't been lying about his mother's death. Still, he had no idea what that meant. He'd known his mother was dead for just over twenty-two years, for twelve of those he'd known she was an agent and had guessed that her death hadn't been accidental. Did this really change anything? He'd never done the whole rampage of revenge thing, even after knowing why she was dead. Did finding out who had done it change that? He wasn't sure. 

Sleep eluded him as he turned the problem over and over, working his way through the mess that had been left by his fourteen guests while he did so. Tidying kept his hands busy, stopped him pacing. 

It was only when the sun came up and Bilbo realised he didn't need the indoor lights on anymore that he came to some kind of conclusion. 

There were four guns in the house, Bilbo removed them all and stowed them away in various holsters. He packed a bag and then shed every piece of identification which said he was Bilbo Baggins, Bag End, The Shire. There were five separate wallets with different identities and different money in them which he added as well as cosmetics and hair dye - you never knew when you might need to change your appearance. 

He dropped by the post office. Lobelia Sackville-Baggins (who was related to him somehow, but he didn't know quite how), the post-mistress and unofficial head-gossip of The Shire, was in there and he mentioned off-handedly that he was going on a trip. He'd been contracted to write a new book but he needed to travel to a specific place to write it. She'd tell everybody and nobody would find it at all strange. With any luck once this was over, if he was alive, he could simply fold back into life in The Shire without a worry. 

It wasn't that far to walk to the Prancing Pony Hotel, but Bilbo hopped on a bus instead. If Thorin and the others had left then his decision would be all for nothing and he'd actually have to go on some kind of trip. Fortunately, when he asked the receptionist whether Mr. Greyhame had checked out yet (Gandalf's current alias had been written on a piece of paper tucked into the back of the folder with _'Just in case'_ written below it) she said that he hadn't and he, and the other thirteen, were all still having breakfast. 

Nervously he made he way into the dining room, where a huge spread of breakfast foods was being rather voraciously attacked.   
"So, Mr. Baggins," Thorin said, having noticed him, "you've decided to join us after all."  
"Yes." Bilbo said, meeting Thorin's gaze.   
"We're leaving for the airport after breakfast," one of the other men, who Bilbo was very sure was Bofur, said, "take a seat and eat while you can." 

After breakfast the fifteen of them piled into four cars for the journey to, what he was informed, was a private airfield with a flight out of the country. It was still quite squashed since they all had bags. Bilbo found himself sitting in the back of one of the cars, next to Bofur.  
"So, can you tell me who's who again, I think I missed a few names last night," Bilbo said.  
"Well Thorin's our leader," Bofur said, "Fili and Kili are his nephews."  
"I'm a sniper," Kili, who was in the front passenger seat, said.  
"I'm his spotter, and his older brother," Fili, who was driving the car, added.  
"Then there's Balin, who knows everybody and who's owed a lot of favours, his younger brother Dwalin who's the weapons expert. Oin's our doctor and his younger brother Gloin is our wheel man. Then there's Dori, who's a pretty amazing hacker, Nori who can get you anything you need and Ori who can forge any identification you need. And then there's my brothers Bombur and Bifur," Bofur said, proudly, "Bombur's the explosives guy and Bifur speaks any language you happen to need."  
"And what do you do?" Bilbo asked  
"I'm the confidence man," Bofur said with a charming smile.   
"Oh okay." 

There was silence in the car after that, apart from Fili and Kili fighting over the radio and Bilbo drifted off to sleep.


	2. Phase 2: Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo has light fingers, thinks about family and the grand plan is finally elaborated on.
> 
> Disclaimer: I know nothing about vaults, computers or breaking and entering that doesn’t come from a TV show or movie.

Bilbo woke with a jerk when somebody, who he recognised a minute later as Bofur, shook him. He’d definitely become less paranoid if he could sleep in a car with three strangers.  
“We’re here,” Bofur said and when Bilbo looked out of the car’s window he could see the air field and the moderately sized plane. Gloin was just jumping up into the cockpit while the others were hauling bags out of the car. Bilbo, stifling a yawn, hauled his own bag out of the car’s boot and headed towards the plane. He watched Fili and Kili grab two of the others (he was fairly sure they were Ori and Nori) to show them something on the phone that Kili pulled out, which he thought nothing of until the latter two looked up at him and burst into fresh laughter. He was fairly sure he hadn’t been dribbling in his sleep and it might have been something completely coincidental but Bilbo had gotten the impression last night that despite what Gandalf had told them and his former reputation, none of them thought him particularly competent. Having them underestimate him might be useful, but on the other hand it could prove difficult or even dangerous later. A practical demonstration, just a little one, might be just the thing. 

He waited until Thorin turned around and saw the four men not doing anything and shouted at them, casually watching which pocket Kili put his phone in, to make his move.   
“Where should I put my bag?” he asked Kili.  
“Over where Dwalin’s loading them,” Kili answered, pointing, and Bilbo brushed past him, coming away with the phone which he tucked up into his sleeve. After leaving the bag with Dwalin he disappeared around the other side of the plane and pulled the phone out. He’d spotted the motion Kili had made to unlock the thing (it had been a particular talent of his he’d kept up. All he had to was walk past somebody unlocking their phone or using a cashpoint and he could guess within three goes what their pin was) and quickly had the phone open. Sure enough, the most recent picture in the gallery was of him. He wasn’t dribbling at least, but he had apparently fallen asleep on Bofur’s shoulder. Bilbo sighed, deleted the picture and quickly tapped out a message. Locking the phone again Bilbo shoved it back into his sleeve and went to mingle with the rest of the group. 

Kili had apparently noticed the loss of his phone and gone looking for it so he was amongst the last to sit down (next to his brother, naturally), only to find his phone in the pouch on the back of the seat in front of him. Bilbo had very carefully stumbled over nothing right by that seat on the way to his own (sitting by himself, which didn’t really bother him).   
“Very funny, B.Baggins,” the sniper read out, laughing. “When did you… _oh_ , very good.”  
“Looks like the Burglar really does have some light fingers on him,” Bofur laughed, “keep an eye on your wallets, guys.” There was a lot of laughter, though Bilbo wasn’t quite certain that it was with him not at him.   
“Childish parlour tricks,” came Thorin’s voice from the seat at the front of the plane where he was sitting with Gandalf. Bilbo didn’t usually decide to pick somebody’s pocket unless he needed to, especially within a team if he was working as part of one, but Thorin’s wallet was _definitely_ paying for him to have lunch at some point in the near future. Childish parlour trick indeed. Admittedly this wouldn’t be the first time that somebody had scoffed at his pickpocketing skills when they were demonstrated on somebody else but he’d been light fingered enough to take the sweets his grandfather hid on his person, to encourage his fleet of grandchildren to develop just such light fingers, by the time he was seven. 

Old Gerontius Took (who had changed his last name specifically for the pun), his mother’s father, had been a thief and a conman, at least until he’d settled down and fathered twelve children. Bilbo had spent much of his childhood sitting at his grandfather’s knee listening to his stories and learning exactly just how to pick a pocket without getting caught, especially in the seven years between his mother’s death and Grandpa Took’s own passing. Supposedly he’d been a hundred and thirty years old when he died but born to a poor family in the late 1860’s and then going into a career in crime meant that he had never had a birth certificate or any form of identification that was real to verify it. Despite his supposed age he’d been sharp as a tack until the day that he died and he could spot sloppy technique a mile away (so long as he had his glasses on).

The rumble of the plane beneath him shook him out of his musing as they taxied down the runway and with a jerk they were in the air. It was then that Bilbo realised that, despite the planning that had gone on yesterday he still had no idea where exactly he was going, they hadn’t really talked about place names and it had mostly focused on Red Dragon’s headquarters - a mountainous and volcanic island mostly in international waters which had belonged since its discovery variously to the British, the French and then to Equatorial Kundu before it had, quite casually (and with a large number of bribes and ‘missing’ paperwork) been bought by Red Dragon and declared its independence. Though it was technically not recognised as an independent nation by most of the major powers in the world nobody really bothered much about it, especially the government of Equatorial Kundu, which made it perfect. 

Once they were there they could plan how to get on to the island. It was supposedly big enough that they could hide with little chance of being spotted even with the paranoia. Once they were on the island it would be up to Bilbo to find them a way in. They would deal with Smaug and with the guards, recover Arkenstone from wherever it was, return it and the decryption key to Dain and the world would no longer be in danger from Red Dragon. Both the group and it’s head were rumoured to have extensive personal wealth, which would be redistributed equally between them as recompense for their aid. 

It transpired that they were not heading directly to Equatorial Kundu because Gandalf’s blueprint, though recent enough (and obtained through enough back channels) to be accurate, it didn’t have one very important part. Smaug had apparently had a vault made specifically to be as secure as possible, the plans of which were still under lock and key at the firm who had been contracted to build it, FSI (which stood for Fëanor Security Industries) whose headquarters and vault were - fortunately enough - in the south east of France. And by the time this had been explained to him everybody was looking at Bilbo.  
“Can’t you hack in?” Bilbo asked Dori.  
“The bastards at FSI are a canny bunch,” Dori said, “all their plans are kept on paper for that very reason. If you can get me onto their closed circuit system I can help you out. Bofur will help you get inside and create a distraction if you need one but stealing the thing is all on you.”   
“Think you can do it?” Kili asked.  
This sort of thing would have been a whole mission when he was an active agent. Then again he probably wouldn’t have been expected to actually steal the plans, simply make a copy or photograph them if he could. Strictly speaking he wasn’t a thief, his specific talents were a combination of reconnaissance, stealing and breaking into places and he would much rather have had a little practice run before hitting somewhere like Fëanor Security Industries.   
“Yes,” he said with confidence that he didn’t really feel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring Competent!Bilbo because he might have been retired but he still has skills. Actually there’s going to be lots of Competent!Bilbo. Red Dragon’s headquarters are based off of Kanacea Island in Fiji (which has mountains and volcanoes and you can own if you have a large but undisclosed amount of money). Equatorial Kundu is a fictional country (and if you know where it’s from, you get a virtual cookie). Also yes, the Old Took’s first name was Gerontius. In this canon think of him as sort of a Frank Abagnale figure except he didn’t get caught and retired to have 12 children.
> 
> Also, I'm sorry this is like half the size of the first chapter but it is basically explaining the plot so we can get to interesting stuff. 
> 
> It doesn't help that I'm feeling absolutely wretched right now and if I don't post this now, it'll take ages to post. 
> 
> Next Up: Chapter 3 (or part 7, depending on how you look at it) of The Company of the Ring.


End file.
